Gregory Brown, University of Nevada

Once or twice in a lifetime/
A man or woman may choose
A radical leaving, having heard
Lech l’cha – Go forth.

God distribute us toward our destiny
By hard events and freedom’s now urgent voice
Which explode and confirm who we are

We don’t like leaving
But God loves becoming.

The University of Nevada, Las Vegas, where I have taught History for 26 years, has long been something of an oddity with respect to its Jewish community. In contrast to many campuses, where the Jewish community is larger and more visible on campus than in the surrounding city, we have been the opposite. A thriving Jewish community in Las Vegas has not been matched on campus, other than a small (but active) Hillel and a more recently developed Chabad. Efforts to form a presence for Jewish faculty and staff had not been successful, and no Jewish studies curriculum existed in our catalog. 

My experience was typical, a member of the community and active in my congregation, sending my kids to Jewish education to prepare for b'nai mitzvot and to day and overnight camps; but I had only the most limited Jewish identity on my campus. Other than not holding classes or attending meetings on major Jewish holidays, little about my professional life would have indicated my own Jewish identity to students or colleagues. 

The week – and the year – following October 7, for me, for my colleagues and students, and for our campus, would become a radical leaving. A student organized vigil on October 10 drew a number of us but it was the initially indifferent and then hostile response of some parts of the campus, compounded by a confused and faltering response by the administration, that was our call to go forth.  No one from the administration reached out to the small community of Israeli faculty and students; the administration, which had issued statements of support and offers of counseling resources to other communities whose members had been targeted in attacks far from Las Vegas, issued a statement on October 11 (more than 2 weeks before the Israeli ground war began) that barely mentioned Israel or Hamas and expressed an inability “to understand the complexities of this conflict.” Within days, Jewish students reported being called out in class and asked to defend the existence of Israel, were ostracized from some student organizations and in a few cases perceived physical threats. An educational program on Israel organized later in October was disrupted by protesters with bullhorns, and large and unruly demonstrations chanting genocidal slogans became regular occurrences. Later in the year, an Israeli astrophysicist visiting for an international symposium was hounded by a group of students who knew his home town and demanded his “Zionist voice” be excluded from campus. 

Over the course of this time, however, Jewish students and faculty came together on campus and received significant support from the off-campus community. Thanks to the support of our local Jewish federation, we organized first a chat group and then, thanks to a supportive interim vice president for diversity, recognition as a faculty-staff affinity group, including a seat on the presidential advisory council. Working with the resilient and courageous students and the steadfast regional Jewish federation, Israel-American Council and ADL staff, we pushed back on the disruptions to academic operations and stiffened the resolve of the university administration. 

By the end of the academic year, we had brought forward sufficient information on the shut-down of the visiting lecture to have the university initiate a Student Conduct investigation, had worked with a coalition of community partners to help pass a Board of Regents amendment to to include anti-semitism in the anti-harassment and diversity chapter of our Handbook, and convinced the president to appoint a Task Force on Jewish Inclusion to recommend campus educational and awareness programming and to work towards a Jewish Studies certificate. We had also become affiliated with the AEN and developed relationships with Jewish faculty at other institutions in our state System and in the southwest region. 

I myself taught a section of our first year world history course that focused on Zionism and this year am co-teaching a year-long seminar on the Holocaust. I have had to put aside important other research projects for the time being but I am also expanding the aspect of my work that explores Jewish identity in the historiography of the Enlightenment. 

For me personally and for our community, as we approach the commemoration of the initial event, I feel that there is a very different perspective for our Jewish faculty and students and for our place in the larger community. The loss of October 7 exploded us but it also, perhaps, confirmed who we are and offers an opportunity for becoming.